


I Wanna Hold Your Hand

by Love_you_a_latte



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_you_a_latte/pseuds/Love_you_a_latte
Summary: WARNING: Descriptions of panic attack.A gift to my beautiful Famejecks, whether she likes it or not, because she has already helped me so much.Part one: The reader has been working for Tony Stark for four years and, over time and much effort, they have developed a working friendship. Both want more, but neither make any moves. Their feelings are put on hold when Tony has a panic attack, and it takes the reader to calm him down.Part two: Your mother invites Tony over for Thanksgiving when she finds out he'll be spending the holidays alone, much to your annoyance.Just sweetness ♥️
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Reader, Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Famejecks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Famejecks/gifts).



> Hello my beautiful people!!  
> I am in the midst of four different series (soon to launch a fifth), yet I had to get this one out. The plot flows a bit unconventionally, and I wrote this while sleep-deprived, so who knows how it'll turn out.  
> Enjoy!

Tony fell into the barstool at his counter, legs shaking. He could feel his chest caving in on itself, could feel his lungs heaving, desperate for air it didn't really need. He could hear the ringing in his ears and the sound of his fist on granite, but he felt as though he was observing it all from far away, out of control. Everything was going black. He knew he was having a panic attack, but that didn't change the terror that made him tremble. It's all in your head, his internal voice screamed into whatever dark void he was floating in, unable to respond.

He was so far gone that he didn't hear your voice, or your heavy breathing, or feel your hand on his rubbing softly, or see your beautiful face. It was all dark and scary, and it was all he knew.

"Tony," you murmered, doing everything in your power to keep your breathing loud and even, hoping his subconscious would take over and imprint on the pattern. You traced your thumb along the back of his hand, which was red from slamming into the polished countertop. You wished you had been there sooner, but you had run from the lab as quickly as you could the moment FRIDAY alerted you to Tony's symptoms. He still stared on vacantly, eyes wide and terrified, but his breathing had begun to even out, and you could see his eyes shifting and readjusting.

"Tony," You repeated. He looked directly at you, and you could see the moment he returned to your world. "Hey," you whispered.

To your surprise, Tony yanked his hand from under yours, and nearly fell off the barstool in an attempt to get up. He pushed you out of the way before you could help.

"I need to get out of here," he said, voice high and distraught.

"Tony, you need to sit down. To relax. You just calmed down, and running around is not going to help anyone."

He ignored you, stumbling towards the elevator.

"FRIDAY, don't let him leave."

You realized that trapping a panicking man in a room was probably a bad idea, and he was definitely going to hate you later, but you were concerned (to say the least) about him getting to the Ironman suit. You were rarely around when Tony had a panic attack, but you knew from a combination of experience and stories that he usually ended up zipping away and not returning for some time, or passing out and flying around for hours, or accidentally crashing into something. You also knew that, if he didn't get help, his attacks were probably going to get worse.

He whirled on you, eyes ablaze with fear and frustration.

"You can't do that," he managed, and you struggled to keep your tone even in response.

"Sit down, Tony."

"Let me out."

"Not until you calm down."

"Who do you think you are?!"

"I said sit down."

His eyebrows lifted, and though his voice was rising in tandem with the tension in the room, you were relieved to notice he was beginning to focus on the fight rather than his panic.

"You don't tell me what to do!" He yelled, eyes still wild and scared.

"Tony," you sighed, doing everything in your power to remain calm and not betray the worry that pulled at your heart. "Working yourself up like this isn't going to help anyone. You need to take a breather before you leave."

"You don't know anything about what I'm going through!" He hollered, trembling. You couldn't resist the urge to yell anymore. You knew he was distraught, but he had no right to assume anything about you.

"I've been having anxiety attacks since I was NINE!" You yelled back, and Tony nearly fell over at the change in your voice. "Now sit. Down."

He sunk to the floor in front of the elevator, chest heaving in and out. You waited for a moment, eyes tracing over the extravagance that was his living space in the Avengers tower. You watched your boss from the corner of your eye, and you realized that he was staring at you. He looked you up and down, like he was reassessing you. You looked directly at him and he broke eye contact, turning to gaze over his apartment, and you could see the gears in his head slowly turning.

You decided to sit next to him, cautiously lowering yourself on sky-high heels to the cold floors, just inches from Tony's side. With a soft sigh, you pulled his hand from the floor, and intertwined your fingers with his, placing your joined fists on your lap. You resumed the rubbing you had started earlier, a soft, slow path across his hand, and tried to ignore the way it felt like electricity when he squeezed back.

"Why do you do that," he asked, eyes still not meeting yours. He held your hand tight again to clarify, and your heart squeezed in tandem.

"My mom used to do it," you admitted, watching the way his eyes shifted from one thing to the next. "It would help ground me in reality."

He gave a faint nod, and you turned away again, waiting. It was silent for a moment while Tony relaxed, mind finally catching up with reality. The room had grown silent, and the evening light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows was turning all shades of red, orange, yellow, purple, and blue. It was beautiful to see the New York sunset from so high up, where the massive skyscrapers were nothing but footnotes in the dazzling display before you. You could see birds flying and cars driving and people walking. You could see the city begin to shift as the daytime crowd filtered out, replaced with the raw energy of their nocturnal companions. As the streetlights flickered on, and the last light of day gave way to a blank black sky, and the only stars were the city lights, you could see your reflection in the window, Tony's hand still in your lap, both faces speaking volumes to the late nights you had spent in the lab.

"Thank you." He said slowly. You would've made a quip about how rarely those words left his lips, but you were too tired. Instead, you looked into his brown eyes and nodded, lost in what they held.

Tony watched you as he carefully unclasped your hands, and for a moment, you mourned the loss of contact. But now was not the time to ask your boss for cuddles. Apparently satisfied, he hauled himself up from the ground, legs still shaky, and turned to offer his hand once more. You used it to lift yourself from the floor, instantly coming into contact with his toned chest. You could feel the cold metal of his arc reactor, humming against your front. His eyes never left yours, and suddenly you wished you could go back to the moment when he refused to look at you at all. His gaze was too exhausted to be intense, but there was something in it you couldn't identify. You didn't want to discover what it was. Not tonight.

"I'm going to head home." You broke the silence.

"Probably a good idea," he agreed, straightening and detaching himself from you. You nodded mutely, and walked on numb legs to the kitchen counter to grab your purse.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark."

Those were your parting words before you left through the elevator (now unlocked), and exited the building. No one gave you a second glance; you had spent many a long night in the lab with Tony before.

Some said you were either crazy or stupid to work such irregular, long hours as his assistant, but you loved the job. It paid well, and you had everything you needed. Stark Industries happened to own real estate near the tower, which meant that, as a member of the company's staff, you had a free luxury apartment all to yourself. It had three bedrooms, only one of which had yet been slept in, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a jaw-dropping plush living room with a massive window not unlike the one in Tony's personal parlor. It had an actual chandelier, which you were still coming to terms with, and every part of it was decked out with tech and the finest luxuries. It had been an upgrade, after you survived two months working for Tony, which was a rare occurrence according to Happy. Executive assistants were rarely up to snuff, and if they were, they usually filed sexual harassment claims or quit altogether after sleeping with their boss and realizing that he did not, in fact, have any sort of feelings for them other than lust. You'd seen Tony take home girls from parties that you attended (unwillingly), and it seemed like everyone labeled those girls as one of his defining characteristics, but it intrigued you. There was something far away about his eyes whenever those pupils dilated after traveling over a body. It was like he wasn't even there. Like the Tony you had come to know over the past few years had just... checked out.

Either way, you couldn't complain. He could be annoying, and made some inappropriate jokes or comments, but there was rarely any malice behind it when he was speaking with you. And, after your first two years working for him, he broke up with Pepper (again), this time for good. You had expected them to bounce back until you saw the look in your boss's eyes a few weeks later, bloodshot and wild like he hadn't slept a night in his life.

Maybe it was your twisted luck, but Tony Stark fresh off a break-up was surprisingly less eager to hook up, which worked for your benefit. You knew for a fact that if he ever tried to seduce you, it would be hard to refuse. He was attractive, intelligent, and funny, yes, but it was his quirks that you found most endearing. You loved watching him dance when he thought you weren't looking, and the moments where he made a breakthrough and lit up like a Christmas tree. You loved how much he cared, even if he didn't let it on, because he could pretend all day that he knew nothing about his friends, but you'd seen the way he casually changed channels on the TV when Happy walked in, and pretended to be entirely focused on his work while Downtown Abbey played. You had learned very quickly that the problem was not that Tony Stark didn't care, or was too shallow for his own good, but that he cared too much and didn't know how to show it.

It had been a long four years, learning how to decipher your boss, but it was also fun. Even when he pissed you off, or you pissed him off, even when nothing he did made sense, you could at least throw smartass remarks back and forth until the truth became a little clearer.

You wouldn't say you were in love with Tony Stark, not by a long shot, but you felt a pull towards the idiot that you reported to every day. In the process of trying to learn him, you maybe grew to know him too well. It had been a work in progress, but you were now friends, and you enjoyed being Tony's friend. After the breakup with Pepper, he was surprisingly lonely, and though you couldn't fill that void, you found yourself spending more time in the lab handing him tools or cleaning desks. They were simple tasks, but if you were capable of figuring out Tony, then surely he could understand that those little things meant you cared for his wellbeing.

You kept things professional, never wavering, until tonight. You didn't know what possessed you to call your boss by his first name after years of referring to him only as "Mr. Stark", or why you had the audacity to hold his hand, but you were even more unsure about what it meant.

By the time you pulled into the nine-story parking garage for your apartment building, you had decided that this wouldn't change anything. You were Tony Stark's assistant, yes, but you were also his friend, and friends comforted each other in their times of need.

At the end of the day, you were just creating a stronger bond, which was important when you worked with a man like Tony.

_______

Your heels clicked on the bright white floor and the world rushed past you in a blur of lights and sounds. You were late, only by fifteen minutes, but you were never late. Except for the one time Tony had called you and woken you from your sleep to ask you to grab coffee on the way to work, and the drive thru window employee had spilled the scalding drink down your front, prompting a trip back home. Other than that, you were always either early or on time, and you worried what your boss might say. He was rarely unreasonable, but when upset, he could be a little off-kilter.

You rushed into the lab and came to a sudden stop, taking in the emptiness around you. You desperately tried to catch your breath after running through the tower and scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion. Tony was always late to meetings, but never to the lab. He practically lived there.

"Good morning miss," FRIDAY spoke, and you startled. "Boss asked me to inform you that he'll be in the kitchen."

"Thank you, FRIDAY," you said, fixing your skirt before taking off at a jog towards the elevator.

By the time you arrived in Tony's personal kitchen, you were out of breath, feet aching in your heels.

Tony turned from where he was standing at the oven, revealing a pan on low burn with eggs resting in its dip.

"I hope you like bacon and cilantro in your omelette." He said casually, reaching for the salt on the counter.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I guess what I should really be asking is, do you like brunch after you've had breakfast?"

"Yes?" Your voice was broken up by gasps for air.

"Good." He smiled his signature smile, though it was softer than usual. You settled into the barstool that you had found Tony sitting in last night, watching him carefully. He swayed a little as he worked, spending most of his time watching and checking the eggs. You wanted to ask a question, a million questions, actually, but you knew from experience that asking your boss a million things wasn't going to get you any answers. Instead, you settled to watch him make the omelette, and wondered what was going on inside his head.

By the time he finished and plated it, the clock on the oven read 8:47. He pulled out a drawer and grabbed a silver fork, placing it gently atop his creation. It was a beautiful omelette, and by the way he was grinning, he knew it, too.

"Thank you," you conceded, and took your first bite. He remained on the opposite side of the counter, hands tossing and turning the spatula, watching with his soft brown eyes. You chewed slowly, and found your own fluttering shut to fully savor the deliciousness that was a Tony Stark omelette.

"Damn."

"I do make a pretty amazing omelette."

You opened your eyes again, laughter in their irises.

You didn't know how long you sat there, eating the omelette while Tony cleaned up the kitchen, but it didn't really matter. The sun had fully risen over the New York skyline, and the city was greeting the late morning crowd to its many coffee shops and cafés. It was silent, though not awkward, and multiple times you let your eyes shut again to soak in the peace of the moment. There was seldom a time as Tony Stark's assistant that you had peace, and this was one of them. Peace was wonderful, you decided.

Tony never apologised for yelling at you. Not that you expected an apology, or even needed one. You could tell he had heard you loud and clear by the way he sat next to you in the lab two weeks later, his chair rolling impossibly closer. You ignored it, worried that the onslaught of inappropriate comments and touches he'd been (mostly) holding back for the years you'd worked with him were finally breaking free. But instead, he remained quiet, and watched you annotate a difficult manuscript he had left on your desk earlier that morning. You were so absorbed in your work that you quickly forgot he was there, until a hand made its way to your thigh. It shocked you enough to make you realize that your boss was trembling, and his breaths were shaky and calculated. Tony Stark wasn't a man to be vulnerable, so you wordlessly slipped your hand over his, and began rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. You could feel him relax as you read, eventually leaning over to rest his head on the desk next to you. You continued to trace patterns over his calloused hands even after his breathing evened out, and after you had finished reading the manuscript.

You didn't have the heart to wake a sleeping Tony.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mother invites Tony to your family's Thanksgiving after she finds out that he'll be spending the holidays alone, much to your annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooo this was supposed to be over, and I don't know what possessed me to write 4.5k words the night before a big event, with like four other series pending, but I've just been having Tony feels lately, I guess.

"Ms. [Y/L/N], I can't wait any longer. I need to have results by Thanksgiving."

"Mr. Gruel, I understand, but Thanksgiving is only one week away, and we simply don't have the time to--"

"I don't care--"

You listened to Harland Gruel talk on and on about meeting deadlines and having lab results for a technology he had commissioned, ignoring him. Anything in the lab around you would be more interesting than hearing the CEO repeating himself for the seventeenth time. You waited, knowing that you'd get your satisfaction in the end.

When Tony Stark walked in, he noticed you were on a phone call, and sat on the counter near where you stood, watching. He reached out and grabbed your hand, a signal the two of you had developed for when you needed the other's attention. Sometimes, you'd rub his hand during a press conference, when the room got too loud, or New York was brought up, but mostly, it was a way of saying "I need you, but I'll wait." You squeezed gently, letting him know you'd be ending the call momentarily. He nodded and released your hand, turning to grab a glass and fill it in the sink from his spot on the counter.

"--in short, [Y/N]--" your nostrils flared when the man called you by your first name, and you heard Tony chuckle "--I am not pleased."

"Oh, how unfortunate." You grinned slyly at your boss, who was watching you with an equally wolfish grin on his face. "We quit."

"Excuse me? I've told you so many times that we're--"

"Mr. Gruel, I don't have to listen to you. We quit. My boss has the right to refuse sales to anyone and, quite frankly, we don't want to do business with you anymore."

"But-"

"Harland."

The line went silent. You continued.

"I do not care what you think of our timeframe. Your itsy bitsy security business is far down our list of priorities and you have been consistently disrespectful on each phone call. We do not need your money. We are doing you a service. Or, rather, we were. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Gruel."

You hung up, exhaustion in your eyes but mischeif in your smile.

"You know, I never liked him," Tony said and you laughed, taking the glass he offered. You sipped slowly, letting the water soothe your throat. You had been on non-stop phonecalls for days, trying to get as much work out of the way before the holidays hit. You were planning on going home for Thanksgiving, as was family tradition, then return in time to have a "friendsmas"; you hosted a party and sleepover in your luxury Stark apartment for singles and couples who couldn't go back to their families.

"You need something, boss?" You asked, setting the dirty glass in the sink.

"I thought you'd like to know that I'll be spending Thanksgiving with your family." He said it so casually and you balked. His expression never wavered, but you could tell he was enjoying himself by the twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Apparently, you told your mother that I was homeless."

You snorted. "I told her you had no family to go to. She asked."

"Whatever. The point is, she invited me over. So we'll be leaving tomorrow at seven AM on my private jet. One of my private jets."

He was still sitting there, a nonchalant smile on his face, reclining against the wall like he hadn't just dropped a bomb.

"Unless of course, you don't want me to be there. In which case," he shoved off the counter, walked over to his main desk, and picked up one of the stress balls sitting there, throwing it into the air again and again. "In which case, I'd tell you that's mean, and I deserve love just as much as the next guy, if not more. No, definitely more."

You snorted and snatched the ball from the air, and your boss's face scrunched up in mock offense.

"It's not a problem. But it's not exactly normal to have your boss over for the holidays."

"I'm not even staying for Christmas, so you're welcome."

You rolled your eyes and dropped the ball back on his desk, turning to leave. You had more calls to make and errands to run and no time to be annoyed at your boss intruding upon your family time.

"I won't even be there for Christmas," you called over your shoulder, descending the stairs into the "living room" of Stark tower.

"I see this as an absolute win. I won't have to deal with your annoying ass for weeks."

You chuckled and grabbed your purse from the kitchen counter.

"I'm leaving. Going to meet with HammerTech board of directors."

"HammerTech? Why the hell would you be meeting with HammerTech?"

"Because we own them, dipshit."

"Hey honey, is everything alright?"

"Hey Mom, everything's fine, but why did you invite my boss to Thanksgiving?"

"Well, you told me he didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't think it'd be right to leave him alone in that tower. I also didn't think you'd have a problem with it."

"I don't. It's just... Unprofessional, I guess."

"Tony Stark is just like any other man, and he's lonely. No one should have to spend the holidays alone. Besides, I didn't invite him for Christmas. Only Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, I know. How did you get his number?"

"The phone book."

You both knew she was lying.

You felt awkward in the expensive jet, sitting on plush seats in your jeans and a t-shirt. You had grown so used to only wearing casual clothes on your days off, and seeing your boss in his own pair of jeans and a Black Sabbath shirt put you off a little. You'd seen him in causal clothing plenty of times, but never paired with your own, and never in a luxury jet. Tony himself seemed perfectly content (or as content as Tony Stark could be), reclining across from you with a magazine in hand. You looked down at your book again, but focus didn't come easy. You had left your work phone at your apartment in an attempt to disconnect, which gave you anxiety. You tried not to think about what people might need you, or what emergencies might occur, reminding yourself that this was your vacation. A vacation with your boss, yes, but a vacation.

"Enjoying the view?" He said, smirking, and you shook your head. You hadn't even realized you were staring at him.

"I wouldn't say enjoying. It's more like a train wreck -- you can't look away."

"Excuse you, but the entire population thinks I'm the sexiest man alive."

"Oh really?" You snorted, turning to gaze at the fluffy clouds out your window.

"Really. You should see the polls. And don't correct me because it really is everyone, including you. You think I'm the sexiest man alive."

"Mhmm," you hummed, pretending to ignore him. But you could see the way his lips turned up before his eyes travelled back to the magazine.

The flight wasn't too long, only about five hours, but you had to take a couple stops to refuel the jet. It was the disadvantage of flying privately, something you usually avoided by travelling commercial (much to Tony's disgust). You tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach, and the thumping of your heart that warned of feelings. There were many reasons why you tried to keep Tony as far away from your personal life as possible, and this was one. The idea of him meeting your family made you nervous and excited at the same time, something you hated. This was going to be a normal Thanksgiving, you decided. And your emotions would not get the best of you.

"Aunty [Y/N]!" Was the first thing you heard when you got out of Tony's very expensive Cadillac. Immediately after, a blur flew into your arms and you stumbled, struggling to hold the weight of your niece.

"Arianna!" You smiled widely, and she buried her face into your shoulder, refusing to let go. A second child, a nephew, moved at a much slower pace.

"Carter!" You said, shifting the six-year-old girl to one arm so you could hug her older brother with the other. He didn't say anything, just silently wrapping his arms around your waist. Arianna looked like her mother, olive skin and dark, curly hair, but with her father's blue eyes. She was chubby and energetic and always moving. Carter, on the other hand, was thin and lanky, much like your Dad was at his age. He hadn't spoken a word since the day he was born, but you could tell Carter was whip smart by the way he observed everything. He looked like his mother, too, with blue eyes that matched his sister's, but his face was structured like his father's.

"I should be offended," Tony said from behind you. "Ironman," he raised his voice, "is right in front of them, and they don't care. Kids need their priorities straightened out."

You laughed, and released your nephew. Your niece took a little shaking to get rid of, but eventually dropped out of your arms. Carter crept forward and offered his hand, eyes to the ground. Tony shook it and smiled, unperturbed.

"Nice to meet you kid." You had briefed him ahead of time on your family, so he knew Carter wouldn't speak. 

"I'm Arianna," a little voice said from behind your thigh, and you stroked her hair. 

"So I see," was your boss's response, and you smiled. He opened his mouth to say something, but your brother interjected.

"It's good to see you, [Y/N]. But when I told you never to bring a man home, I meant it. Even if it is your boss."

"Whatever," you smiled, hugging him. John was a large man, much taller and wider than anyone you knew. He was emotional, which could be intimidating when combined with his stature, but he was soft at heart. His wife, Lelani, joined in the hug suddenly.

"I missed you so much!" She declared, and you turned against your brother's chest to smile at her.

"I missed you more!"

Tony coughed conspicuously, and you rolled your eyes, breaking apart from the group hug.

"Guys, this is my boss, Tony Stark."

John reached forward to shake his hand, much like Carter had earlier, but your mother flew out of the house and down the front steps faster than their hands could meet, wrapping Tony in a bear hug. You laughed, quickly joined by your father, who watched the proceedings from the porch. Choosing not to rescue Tony, and let him fend for himself, you rushed up to hug your Dad.

"Hi, Daddy," you said, and he squeezed you hard. 

"I missed you, pumpkin," he replied, and you hummed. You could hear the rest of your family nervously introducing themselves to Tony and you watched with your Dad, laughing together. You suddenly remembered the day you met your boss, some five years ago or so on your first day of the new job. You remembered how flustered you had been, but that nervousness was quickly replaced by laughter when his left boot malfunctioned (he had been testing that particular part of the suit when you walked in), sending him to the ground. You hadn't meant to laugh, and immediately helped him up (much to his disgust), but that moment took all of your awe away. Maybe if you told your family that story, and about the dizzy, disheveled look on his face immediately after, they wouldn't be so nervous. But you had a feeling Tony would get revenge in some way if you did, probably in the form of another embarrassing story about you. Maybe the one where you fell into a pool at one of his parties? Probably not.

"When she resurfaced, she was coughing and choking, and mascara was running down her face..."

John was howling with laughter. You didn't know how on Earth the conversation went from introductions to embarrassing you so fast, but you had to retaliate. As your remaining family and Tony stepped up to your porch, you leaned against the railing, smiling devilishly.

"If you think that's funny, you should hear about the day I met Mr. Stark."

"Ms. [Y/L/N], it's very unprofessional to tell a story before introducing me to your father." You scoffed. 

"Mr. [Y/L/N], it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Your Dad grinned and shook Tony's hand warmly, but you could see the warning in his eyes. Your father was far from overprotective, and he tended to watch the world from his own bubble, but he wasn't afraid to step in. And having another man in the house, one who had come with you, whether as a romantic partner or not, was a threat. Luckily, you knew he'd set that aside for the sake of making a new friend.

"It's nice to meet you. You can call me Mike."

Tony smiled, and your Dad smiled back, and it was like all the nerves were sucked from your family in an instant. If Papa Mike was calm, so was everyone else.

"Well, Mike, thank you for letting me stay in your," he squinted up, taking in the enclosed porch, "your home. It's lovely."

"Thank you," your Dad replied, and opened the door for everyone to enter.

Your parents' house was near the Oregon coast, far enough away that you couldn't see the ocean, but close enough that you could feel its cool breezes and the rain that followed. The scenery was beautiful, all pines and rolling hills, and it was obviously a great place to retire to. Or, at least, to try and retire to. Your parents never really stopped working, just switched from being on payroll to visiting any nonprofits they could find nearby. The house itself was a light yellowish color, bright and cheerful against the constantly cloudy skies. It had navy trim, and many windows. There were neighbors within a hundred yards, but no one was too close. The porch, enclosed in screen, had two bench swings on either end, and many chairs and pillows and blankets and books. It was your mother's favorite place to spend her free time. Inside, the house was laid out simply. The entryway led directly to the kitchen, to the left was the living room, and to the right was a staircase that led up. Past the living room (or, alternatively, to the left of the kitchen; the lower rooms were connected in a circle), was the dining room, with one massive wooden table and many folding chairs. Beneath the first staircase was a second, leading down to a finished basement with a bar and flat screen. Upstairs were five rooms and two bathrooms, which managed to fit all of the houseguests perfectly. The master for your parents, one for your brother and his wife, one for your niece and nephew, one for you, and one for Tony. The kids would probably fight, but if worst came to worst, you'd just sleep in the basement.

Tony stood in the living room, taking in its contemporary gray furniture and bright orange rug. When the sun decided to break through the clouds for a moment and pass through the massive window, its morning light made the room feel cozy. Your boss was uncharacteristically silent, and bore an expression you couldn't quite place. He looked content, actually, but there was something else.

"Sit, sit," your Dad said, and everyone scrambled to their various seats while Tony stood there in shock. Arianna dove for the couch, laying out, but you plucked her off and into your lap. Carter sat close next to you and your mother claimed her spot by landing on the couch with a soft thud. John leapt into a big leather chair with surprising agility and your father hovered over him in a tradition that spanned decades.

"Get up, son."

"No thanks."

Mike calmly rounded the chair, and your brother clamped his hands down on the armrests hard. Your family could barely contain their giggles, and you almost lost it at Tony's concerned face. With a mighty heave, your father threw the leather chair to the ground, and your brother was on his back.

"I have every right to this seat!" John whined.

"Shut up and fight your father!" You squeeled, quoting a Seinfeld episode that your family had viewed over and over again when it appeared on YouTube. Your boss looked on in shock and you met his gaze, full-bodied laughter breaking free. Everyone else joined in, and soon Tony was having as much fun as everybody.

Mike sat placidly in the orange recliner opposite your brother, who was still on the floor laughing, and Tony quietly and cautiously made his way over to the second leather chair next to you.

Once everyone had settled down, and John had righted his chair, and Arianna had shifted off your lap, and your mother left to get lunch started, your Dad asked the big question:

"So, what sort of TV do you like?"

Tony wasn't always the most perceptive, but he knew a test when he saw one.

"You can never go wrong with sports. Of course," he amended when your niece groaned, "I'll watched whatever you're watching."

Seeing your boss bend over for your family was an interesting sight. Usually, he wouldn't give ground to anyone. Mike nodded and clicked a button on the remote. After much manipulation from Arianna, and silent judgement from Carter, the channel was changed to Antique Roadshow, another tradition in your family. Whenever there was an imbetween time, where food was being made, or you were waiting to leave the house, Antique Roadshow would play in the background. Often, you'd all get sucked in.

"I'm going to see if Mom needs any help," you explained, getting up. Arianna flung herself into the once-occupied space, eyes never leaving the television. Tony watched you leave, and you felt a little bad for abandoning him, so you brushed your fingers across his knuckles as you passed. If you had stayed, you might have seen the question in your father's eyes.

"Hey, Mama, do you need anything?" You began washing your hands. You knew the answer. She smiled from the cutting board by the window, face illuminated in the light. Megan [Y/L/N] was getting old, but she hadn't lost her beauty for a second. With every gray hair, you knew, she became prettier.

"Can you chop these while I knead the dough?"

You nodded silently and got to work on the onions. It had been a year since you last cooked together, and many more had passed where you rarely got to spend hours in the kitchen with her like you used to. But still, you fell into a quiet rythmn. Until she talked.

"So, how do you feel about your boss coming over?"

You sighed, and your eyes wandered to the backyard momentarily.

"I'm okay with it, really."

"Mhmm. I'd even say you're more than okay with it." You could almost hear the smirk on her voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, turning your head slightly but never looking away from the onion in your hand.

"You like him," she stated bluntly, and you snorted.

"I do not."

"How stupid do you think I am?"

She smacked your backside with a spatula on her way to the cupboard and you yelped, eliciting a laugh.

"Okay, maybe I do, but there's no way I'll ever do something about it. He's my boss, and that's it."

"That's fine. But you two go well together."

"Mom! We've been here less than an hour!"

"But you smile at each other like you're the only people in the world."

"Whatever."

Tony found you leaning against the railing on the porch, watching the rain fall. He hadn't meant to find you, not really, but something about the peace in your eyes and your hand at your side was so inviting. He brushed your fingers as he walked over to join you, leaning against the opposite pole.

"Hmm," you hummed, acknowledging his presence.

"That's all I get?"

"Hmm," you repeated, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

"That's disrespectful, that's what it is," he muttered, eyes tracing the line of trees. There was a pause where you stood in silence, just enjoying the moment. In the few days since arriving, Tony had managed to find himself a niche in your family as the resident search engine, and they loved asking him very specific questions about technology and science to see how he'd answer. Your family may have been a little happy-go-lucky, but they were all pretty intelligent, so seeing your boss struggle with the occasionally very difficult question was entertaining to say the least. 

Arianna quickly got bored of Tony, but Carter rarely left his side. He watched Ironman like a hawk, taking in every word, every movement. To your surprise, Tony took it into stride, and frequently talked to him and showed him pictures of his tech. There were little moments, where the genius would pull a chair out for your nephew, or brush that unruly hair behind waxy ears, when you realized you still had much to learn about your boss. You knew he cared about his close friends, but the way he bonded with Carter was unexpected, and pulled on your heartstrings each and every time. You'd even seen Carter smile at Tony, and if fleeting, it brought a similar, wider grin to your own face.

It should've made you feel anxious, to have your boss fit so snuggly into your family, but the part of you that was Tony's friend, and the part of you that was falling for him fast, well they were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony said, breaking the silence, and you glanced over. He was watching you with a soft expression on his face, looking so different from the Tony who slaved away in his lab until ungodly hours of the night.

"I appreciate what you've done with Carter," you admitted. "He doesn't make friends easy, and he thinks you're amazing."

"That's because I am. Don't know what you're talking about, though."

You raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I haven't done anything with the kid. I completely ignore him."

"Okay," you shrugged. You both knew he was lying.

"Speaking of the kid, though, he has these hotwheels." You nodded. "What if I got him some? Of course, you'll owe me, then, but I figured you'd be fine with that. You're in love with the kid, anyway."

You smiled.

"I think he'd flip his lid if Tony Stark bought him some hotwheels."

Tony grinned and turned back to the view, and you studied him for a moment before following his gaze. Everything you had only thought you knew about Tony was turning out to be true, you realized.

You shivered and drew your massive hoodie closer.

"Are you seriously cold?" He asked in disbelief, and you shivered again just to spite him.

"Why, do you find it offensive?"

"Stop that," he said, and you grinned mischievously, shivering again.

"Stop what?"

He reached out and grabbed your shoulders, trying to force you to stop, but you kept on shaking, this time fueled by silent laughter. He tried to glare at you, he really did, but your smile was contagious, and you knew it.

"What's wrong, Mr. Stark? Does my shivering make you nervous?" 

He shook his head and you were about to say more when he leaned forward.

His lips met yours with a sudden softness, and your body went stiff.

They moved slowly, carefully, and you found yourself leaning in just a little. But soon enough, your brain took over again, and you shoved him away with the palm of your hand.

"Oh hell no!" You said, and he went stumbling back. Still, he wouldn't stop grinning. You were about to start yelling when you heard your niece's voice.

"Oh hell no," she echoed, and your head whipped around.

"Arianna--" you warned, but she had disappeared from the door with a grin that rivaled Tony's before you could finish. You were about to run after her when Tony grabbed you by the waist, holding you still. You turned back to him, wide-eyed and ready to fight.

"What's she gonna do?" He asked innocently, and you struggled weakly in his grasp. You could already hear the voices of your family -- it wasn't worth it.

"I don't need her discussing this. We haven't even discussed this! I don't even know what 'this' is! What the hell, man?"

Tony was on the verge of laughter.

"'This' was a kiss. Maybe you've never experienced one before, but usually, they make the girls swoon."

You glared at him, and for a moment, you saw trepidation in his eyes. 

"About time!"

You heard your mother yell from inside, and you could tell from the scuffling that she was keeping everyone else from the door.

"We weren't doing anything!" You yelled back. "I don't know what Arianna saw, but we're out here discussing our drafts for the new HammerTech building!"

You didn't know why you weren't outing Tony, or why you hadn't escaped his arms yet. But you found yourself letting him pull you to his chest. Maybe it was because you were too tired, maybe it was the way his arms felt oddly comfortable. Or maybe it was the way his hand held yours, rubbing circles around your knuckles.

"You're an asshole," you said, but the venom was gone from your voice. "Don't ever kiss me like that again."

"Like that?" He prompted, the twinkle in his eyes growing every second. "What if I didn't kiss you like that? What if I asked first?"

"I don't know!" You screeched, confused.

"Well, then, [Y/N], can I kiss you?"

The question hung in the air, and the more circles he spun on your hands, the more you calmed down.

"I guess so," you huffed, and he leaned in again. This time, he left a little room for you to decide, and you could feel his breath on your face and his eyes on yours. You had realized long ago that it wouldn't take much for Tony Stark to get a hold on you, but you had no idea how good it would feel to kiss him.

This time, you were the one to initiate contact. You revelled in the feel of his lips on yours, and their taste as you deepened the kiss. He swayed slowly, and though it reminded you of his "playboy" title, it also put you at ease.

When you finally broke for air, you watched each other, soft smiles dancing across your swollen lips. You let your head fall to his shoulder and his arms circled you in a bear hug. You sighed contentedly, and let the sound of the rain and your family's hushed voices relax you.

"I told you it makes the girls swoon," Tony said, and you pinched his side lightly.

"Ow!" He complained, but pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You burrowed deeper into his shoulder to hide your smile. It was stupid to smile like that, but you couldn't help it.

Tony just had that effect on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked part two, and you'd also like a part three, let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this!!  
> If you'd like to see the relationship turned into a series, I might consider it, but (as stated before) I'm waist-deep in five others, which means I'm writing around 3k words every day. This is the first thing I've written since I was sick, so it's mostly just helping me get back into the swing of things.  
> Anyway I absolutely adore hearing from you guys, whether it's a question, comment, or critique!! I will be launching a oneshot book with requests very soon (I already have two requested stories in the works), so if you'd like to ask for something, feel free to comment on any of my works, or email me.  
> As always, if you cannot comment here, or want to contact me for whatever reason, my business email is serendipityscribbles@gmail.com and my Instagram is @serendipity_scribbles
> 
> I hope you all stay safe!!!  
> Jeg elsker deg ♥️


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